Protect and Serve
by dritt
Summary: Vale SWAT raids a bungled dust store robbery and begins to uncover the machinations of the conspiratorial forces at play in the city.
1. Chapter 1

I was interested in exploring how non-hunters would exist in Remnant and deal with the crazy bullshit that exists in the main story, so I started writing this, about a Vale SWAT team tasked to deal with the rising crime in the city.

* * *

Crimson stepped down the ramp first, the rest of Gold team close behind him. Just ahead was a dust store, blinds down, door locked, with at least five gunmen and an unknown number of hostages. Once they were out of the vehicle, Ao took point along the wall of the building, just behind a dumpster. Moss and Onyx came up behind Crimson, peering around the wall behind them, towards both the front entrance, and the gawking VPD officers taking cover behind their squad cars.

They had been called in by an off-duty officer who happened to be passing by at the time of the attack. Gunmen had taken him, and any nearby civilians off the street and led them somewhere in the building at gunpoint. Alerted, the might of the Vale PD had been summoned, a grand total of three cars with two scared officers contained within. They had proceeded to cordon off the scene, while negotiation teams attempted to reason with the criminals while Gold team was assembled and brought in.

Crimson was used to working with Moss and Ao, and generally picked the two if he was given the opportunity. Onyx was something of a wild card; he had been transferred in from Atlas counter-terror as a reaction to the rise in armed robberies in Vale, and Crimson hoped that he wouldn't need to be reminded of VPD's distaste for "shoot first – ask questions later" gunslinging. These weren't the New Mantle Party that the new operative was likely used to, and would likely comply if properly cornered. He also was fully aware that Onyx was using the opportunity to scout **him** out, and welcomed the challenge.

Team assembled, Crimson signaled for the team to advance to the next corner, from which they should be able to see their point of entry at the back of the store. Ao stopped at the corner, clipped his SMG to his vest, and brought out his mirror to check around the corner. As proud as Crimson was that his teammate had perfectly anticipated his next command, he was mildly irked that a subordinate acting seemingly without order put on a bad show for their new member.

Ao gave the all-clear. Crimson felt Moss' hand come to rest on his shoulder, and did the same for their point man, who began to move around the corner towards the door, mirror still in hand. There were no windows on this side of the structure, so the team felt relatively safe, compared to an approach from the front, where they would have only had a glass storefront between them and any incoming attacks.

Ao checked the door, signaling that it was once again all clear. No hostiles close enough to hear, Crimson reached to his throat and hit the transmit button for his radio.

"Alright boys, we're going deliberate entry for this one. Take it slow, check your corners, and watch your fire—we don't know exactly how many hostages are in there."

"Sounds good, Boss," replied Moss, casual as ever. Onyx nodded in agreement, remaining silent.

"Door's unlocked," said Ao, as he stepped away, stowing his lock picks in a pouch. "Ready to enter."

Moss took his position to the opening side of the door, and placed his hand on the knob. Ao remained where he was, facing Moss across the entryway. Crimson moved up behind Ao, placing a hand on his shoulder once Onyx had taken position behind Moss.

Given an affirmative nod by Crimson, Moss twisted the knob and swung the door open. Crimson could feel Ao tense up, gun raised and pointed down the small hallway. Without a sound, he and Ao entered the building, covering the branch ahead. Their boots made quiet tapping sounds on the tile floor, and the two moved carefully forwards. Looking just over his sights, Crimson saw a small insect move along the off-white stucco wall.

"Trailers coming in," whispered Moss from the ear-bud, as he and Onyx joined the rest of Gold team. Crimson surveyed their position. To the team's right was a storage room, while the path to their right took a bend and led out into the main store space.

"Blue element," he said, referring to Onyx and Moss. "Take left. Red will go right."

The storage room seemed like an ideal place for the gunmen to corral the hostages, which would require the sort of tact that he knew Moss lacked. He had no doubt there was a detachment of criminals plundering the main area of the store, and the more open area would play towards blue's rifles quite nicely.

Moss and Onyx padded slowly down the left hallway, weapons raised. Meanwhile, Ao triple-checked his SMG, and engaged the single-fire mode. Crimson did the same—if they **were** walking into a room stacked with civilians, he wanted full control over his shots.

The two approached the door, and Ao once again brought the familiar mirror to bear.

"Boss," crackled the radio in crimson's ear. "we've got two by the front of the store. Looks like they're watching the police outside. They've got a radio ready." He could sense the excitement in Moss' voice.

"Can't see clearly inside, Boss," whispered Ao. "There are boxes blocking the lines of sight."

"Check the door and prep gas," he replied coolly, pressing the transmit button near his throat. "Moss, on my signal, restrain them." The radio clicked once in response, while Crimson watched Ao poke around the lock, then grab a small canister from his belt. The two then placed masks on their faces, to protect from the effects of the gas.

"Gas ready on your order." Crimson grasped the door handle, and readied his pistol in his off-hand. He felt his heart accelerate and his grip on the handle tightened. With his pistol-wielding left hand, he clicked and released the transmit button, signaling Blue element to begin. In one smooth motion, he twisted the handle and pushed the door inwards. He saw the grenade sail over his head, trailing its payload of stinging gas over the crates that had blocked Ao's view. It landed inside, and he heard a shout. Suddenly, the grenade burst in a white cloud, and Red element pushed into the cluttered room.

The storage area was surprisingly empty of people; its only occupants were two grunts in tacky suits, doubling over as the gas took effect. Crimson stepped around barrels labeled with the names of dust and the location of their mines of origin. He silently cursed as his boot caught a case of Mistral Fire, sending it tumbling to the ground with a clatter.

"Police! Get on the ground!" He yelled, pistol trained on the furthest of the pair of goons. The two complied, unable to so much as open their mouths to respond as the gas burnt at their eyes and throats. But where were all the hostages? Crimson and Ao began to cuff the gunmen, who initially resisted, but relented at the suggestion that they would be escorted out of the gas.

"Boss, over here!" Called Ao, who was pointing to a disturbed tile, which must have been hastily dropped back in place. The pair pried it open, to reveal a straight drop of roughly two meters, which joined a tunnel under the store. Crimson groaned, this had just become significantly more complicated.

"Blue, is the store front clear? If so, get over here with your masks. We've found something."

The pounding of the other two team members' feet alerted Crimson to their presence. He pointed to the opening in the floor.

"Well **that** wasn't in the blueprints," quipped Moss. Crimson could imagine the grin behind his teammate's mask. He could only grimace in response.

Crimson's hand once again reached to his throat. "TOC, this is entry team. The main building is cleared, but we're missing one tango and all the hostages. A tunnel has been found, and we are preparing to enter, copy." The team waited uncomfortably for a second.

"It's like we're asking mom for permission to go over to a friend's house," remarked Moss, breaking the silence before their radios crackled back to life.

"Entry team this is TOC. Continue your mission, VPD will move into the structure, over." Crimson sighed. While daunting, it was expected. He turned to his team and cleared his throat, catching their attention.

"We have four of five gunmen accounted for, and no hostages in the main structure. Our job's not over until they're all headed home." The sounds of assent were interrupted by the newest member.

"Permission to take point, sir." Crimson turned to Onyx, who looked just as surprised as everybody else was. "The NMP had tunnels just like this underneath the ice. I have experience with them," Continued the Atlesian, patiently.

"Granted," replied Crimson. We'll follow your lead. The rest of the team nodded in agreement. Onyx tightened the straps on his vest in anticipation, and placed his rifle on the ground. He then drew his pistol and knife, checking the weapons before turning to Crimson.

"Chances are this tunnel leads in two directions. You cover our rear, and we move in the direction I pick, clear?" Crimson irked at the tone of authority coming from a new recruit, but reminded himself that Onyx was anything but fresh.

"Clear," he replied, lining up in order with the rest of Gold team. The gas in the room had settled as a mist at knee height, and was slowly falling through the hole into the darkness below. Onyx stepped up to the maw, pistol readied and supported by his knife hand. With a breath, he looked around the room, before stepping forwards and falling into the hole.

Onyx hated the masks. He understood their necessity, but they felt so limiting on his sight that he almost felt like braving the stinging gas just to recover his peripheral vision. His mind had grated at flouting authority for the tunnels, and were he still in Atlas he would probably have faced a harsh reprimand after the fact, but he was thankful that his new CO seemed to be more lenient with autonomy than he was used to.

The darkness of the tunnels washed over him as he fell. If these were anything like the ones he dealt with in Atlas, there would be sufficient lighting inside.

Clearly I'm not in Atlas anymore, he thought to himself upon landing. The blackness stretched into an infinite maw, defying vision. Only the slowly falling gas was visible, in the small rectangle of light from the room above.

Only adjusted his knife-wielding hand, activating the flashlight underneath the barrel of his pistol. He swiveled, checking both directions of the tunnel. To his rear, the tunnel had a bend only ten meters away, with signs of foot traffic leading around the corner. He moved towards the bend, and heard the soft thuds of the other three falling into the tunnel behind him. His small light was quickly joined by those attached to the weapons of his teammates, illuminating the rough dirt walls, supported by wooden planks. Another difference, he thought. In Atlas these would be metal or stone; trees were too rare to be used as a building material. His soft chuckle was caught by the nearby Moss.

"What's up?"

"The hostages were led this way," Onyx gestured down towards the corner.

"On your lead," replied Ao.

"You ready?" That was Crimson, this time. Onyx was getting better at recognizing their voices, despite the masks.

"Almost. These tunnels are slightly different," he replied. "I'm used to lights."

"That's an… Interesting design choice."

"Ao?" Onyx noted a hint of concern in Crimson's voice.

"Nothing. Let's continue," replied the taciturn teammate. Onyx exhaled and proceeded to the bend, listening to the crunching noises his teammates' boots made on the ground behind him. It was a comforting sound in this dark hole. With a sharp exhale, he swung around the corner, continuing quickly through the larger chamber to make way for the other three. What he saw horrified him.

The team's flashlights illuminated fresh bloodstains on the left-hand wall, and the shell casings littered the ground. Onyx heard a retching sound behind his back. He tore his mask off as the team rushed forwards through the room with a new sense of urgency. At the end, the chamber narrowed out again, once again bending off into darkness.

Sick to his stomach, Onyx raised his weapon at the wall of blackness. All he saw was a mound of dirt, fallen in from the ceiling above.

"They collapsed the damn tunnel behind them!" Shouted Moss, throwing his mask to the ground in frustration. Onyx turned his head to the rest of the team. Ao was staring off into the distance, eyes trained on the rubble, but mind clearly elsewhere. He could see the light from Crimson's rifle coming from the previous execution chamber. Silently fuming, he made his way back.

Crimson turned his head slowly to face his team. His face looked more stern than usual, and the sparse light made his light eyes more prominent.

"That's twelve bloodstains on the walls," he remarked coldly, still crouched by the wall. Onyx's eyes drifted to the countless casings on the floor. Twelve executions, so what were these? Crimson raised an object in his hand—it glittered silver and black in the light from their guns. "I found this badge under a small bit of dirt; it must be our off-duty cop. Whoever did this missed it."

Onyx exhaled. A massacre something new, and not exactly what he had expected when he was told he'd be going to Vale. He turned to Moss, who was busy throwing up in the corner. Ao, however, was fixated on a certain spot of the wall, illuminating it with his flashlight. Crimson had also noticed, and was walking over.

"Ao, what've you got?" In response, Ao merely shifted to the side, showing the scrawlings to the rest of his team. Two letters.

WF

Ao smoothly stood up, jaw clenched. "White Fang."


	2. Chapter 2

Moss gasped for air as he was helped out of the tunnel by two sympathetic-looking officers. The longer he spent down in that tunnel, the worse it seemed to smell, and he didn't envy Crimson for waiting down there while the guys from ballistics did their thing. Sure, there was plenty of information to be gleaned from the scene, but he'd be happy to hear about it second-hand. He walked slowly through the store, which was now filled with police, who were poring over every small detail in the place. He carefully stepped around two preoccupied officers, as he tried to make his way outside. The small crowd around the door made way for him, and he finally took a breath of cool air. It was late afternoon, and the sun was hidden behind the surrounding buildings, leaving the street covered in shade.

Moss caught sight of Ao, who was sitting on a bench with his SMG propped up beside him. The new guy from Atlas, Onyx, was standing awkwardly to the side, while he looked down the street at the small crowd of gawkers that had gathered past the police cordon. Moss walked up to his teammates, and collapsed onto the bench. Ao didn't react, however Onyx quickly pivoted around to see the source of the noise. He noticed that the Atlesian's rifle had been raised minutely, but took no offence. Today had been hard on all of them.

"Just so you know, this sorta thing isn't normal around here," Moss said, with a humourless grin. "But I don't think Vale's quite so innocent anymore."

"That's why I'm here," was the half-hearted reply. With that, Onyx turned back to the crowd. He seemed distracted by the camera flashes, but his mind was obviously focused on other things. Suddenly, Ao spoke up, his apparent reverie broken, which caught the other two by surprise.

"The White Fang **wouldn't** work with humans, it's not their MO." Ao now sat forwards, with his elbows resting on his knees, and his hands massaging his temples. Eyes closed, he continued, " **we** didn't see any masks, but somebody must have. Whoever wrote that on the wall **must** have."

"Maybe their MO has evolved," interjected Onyx, who ignored the warning looks Moss gave him. "They've undergone changes in the past, even worked with sympathetic humans before- " Ao now turned to face Onyx, who cowed slightly before the piercing brown eyes.

"That was a while ago, under a man named Ghira. The White Fang was more accepting while he was in charge. Now, however, the fact that they might be working in coordination with local thugs is a big deal." Onyx seemed slightly shaken by Ao's insight, and opened his mouth in an attempt to speak, despite further glares from Moss. His mouth shut without a sound when Ao continued. "I grew up on Menagerie. I was there with my mother and her family. Under Ghira, the White Fang was fine with half-faunus who only had human characteristics. That changed, and… Well, I'm not there anymore."

Moss watched various emotions play across Onyx's face. Surprised shifted into anger which in turn shifted into some form of acceptance. Exhaustedly, the Atlesian shifted over to the bench to join them, and they sat in silence until Crimson's familiar footfalls alerted them to his presence.

"We've got a lot to talk about. A bullhead's waiting to take us back to HQ, then we're getting debriefed by the chief herself." With that, the trio stood up, and followed their leader to the waiting aircraft.

"She must want this report fast and fresh," mused Moss, more to himself than to anybody else. "These things are expensive to send out to transport only four people." Crimson merely grunted in agreement, as he climbed aboard and took a seat at the back of the craft. The whine of the engines increased in volume as the bullhead took off, carrying the team off to VPD HQ.

* * *

"First off, I'd like to say that you did good work down there."

Gold team was sitting in the VPD chief's office, on the third floor of the police HQ. It was slightly cramped for five people, but the fierce old lady had insisted on hosting them, instead of using the usual basement room. "You've all spent too long underground anyways", she had said. None of them would complain, certainly. The room was also quite a bit nicer than the one they were used to, with hardwood flooring, ornate bookshelves, and a mahogany desk. The stern portraits of the past police chiefs was slightly unnerving, but they could be ignored for the window, which sported a nice sunset view of downtown Vale.

"Most of the department's resources are focused on this, and ballistics got us results in record time," she continued, pacing behind her desk, arms crossed. Her suit, an older fashion, made her shoulders look broad and athletic. Crimson had never seen her wear glasses, and her face still retained a look of youthful energy, which made it hard for him to reconcile that the woman standing in front of him was the same age as his elderly mother. He reasoned that her unlocked aura had something to do with it, but was privately too afraid to ask. "The weapons used to execute the hostages were the standard Mistrali military rifles, which seems to agree with your White Fang hypothesis. Excavation teams are combing through the rubble, but we've found no bodies and no further evidence from that area. We're going to have to wait a while for people to be reported missing, but once we have a database, we can check with DNA samples from the blood. There might still be living hostages—insurance, if you will."

Crimson noticed his team perk up slightly after hearing that. Having people to save always improved their spirits. The chief, likely noticing the change in atmosphere, smiled.

"Unlike in the other robberies, very little actual dust was stolen. Instead, they took advanced dust-mixing apparatus. Equipment that had been registered by the store owner, and **tagged** by VPD. We have signal analysis teams working on it, but have pushed a request for further expertise up to the city council."

Crimson's breath caught in his throat. Now there was a good chance they could catch these people, and if the council was aware of the threat, then perhaps the hunters who lived above the city were too.

"They, in turn, have decided to focus your team on this problem. Your duties outside of this issue will be handled by the other teams. An office has been assigned down the hall. My secretary has the details."

They all stared at her for a second, and the chief surveyed their confused faces.

"That means you're all dismissed," she added, as she sat back down in her chair. Crimson could see Moss struggle to contain a grin as she put her feet up on her wood desktop and leaned backwards.

* * *

"So we're getting stuffed in here until they figure out what to do with us?"

Moss, as usual, was exaggerating the situation. Ao was used to it by now, but decided to step in since Onyx looked to be on the verge of responding.

"It's better if we're in one place and easy to find." Moss turned to the window with a huff, arms crossed. Despite this, he'd obviously conceded the point—he would have responded otherwise. Ao heard the door swing open, and turned to face Crimson, who was carrying the last set of documents related to the White Fang into their new office, or "command center", as the chief's secretary had called it.

Commanding it was not, however. The room was small, only barely larger than the chief's office, with more than half the hardwood floorspace taken up by a large meeting table. Two small windows provided a view down into a dimly-lit alleyway, showcasing barred windows and mediocre brickwork. The only adornment on the plain white walls was a simple clock, running five minutes late.

"Thanks for the help," gasped Crimson, voice dripping with as much sarcasm as he could muster. "I hope you've been enjoying the room. These are courtesy of our records department." The documents were arranged in dated folders, documenting observations of White Fang activity in the surrounding regions over several years. In total, the stack was nearly half a meter tall, with colourful tags sticking out at various points. "This is some light reading for us to do until we get further direction from the chief. If anything stands out about any of the White Fang heavyweights mentioned in here, it might help us identify which subgroup was behind this." With that, Crimson started handing out folders, and the team got to work sifting through the information.


	3. Chapter 3

Three days had passed, and Crimson had become sick of their little room. Each day had been spent poring over their "homework", as Moss had put it, and training when their eyes could no longer focus on the pages. They'd built a sizeable list of name associated with the White Fang, but very few of them had been associated with the city of Vale proper.

The thugs arrested at the dust store had proven worthless, and it seemed that they hadn't actually had contact with the White Fang involved and had only been dropping equipment and hostages down the hole in the storage room. They worked for some petty local criminal called Junior, who was already on the VPD radar for pimping out his thugs to those who wanted a low-rent army. It wasn't a location considered for a raid, since any records would be immediately destroyed as soon as anybody in that neighbourhood heard a police siren.

Needless to say, when a panicked woman burst into Gold team's small room, she was met with the sort of rapt attention one can only get from those who wish very badly to be doing something—anything—else. Her mouth opened and closed as she struggled to form words, and Crimson's quick glance to his right gave him the impression Moss was trying his hardest to read the poor girl's mind.

"Chief wants you to suit up and – uh – get to the bullhead on the roof," she finally managed to say, before exiting, leaving the door swinging open. The team looked at each other, before scrambling across the table and jamming through the door.

Everywhere he looked, Crimson saw people crammed to the windows, looking out in the direction of the sea. Properly motivated, Gold made it to the armoury and into their gear in record time. As they barreled up the stairs, most of the other foot traffic gave way, allowing the officers wearing their intimidating black kit to pass. Once on the roof, they saw the Chief standing near the bullhead, her light jacket buffeted by the blast from the spooling engines. She pointed off across Vale, and Crimson's gaze followed. There were lights in the skies, and aircraft swarmed the docks. Flashes and clouds of smoke betrayed the combat below.

"Get in the dropship, you'll be briefed en route!" Yelled the chief, barely audible above the roar of the bullhead. Gold climbed in, and the dropship lifted off, heading straight out across the city, towards the sea.

The chief's voice crackled over their headsets. "Approximately ten minutes ago, a suspicious airship was reported landing on the docks and the situation _evolved_ from there. Currently we have counts of grand theft, assault with deadly weapons, you name it. White Fang are confirmed to be involved, and they have air superiority, so we're limited as to what we can do. There has to be somebody giving the orders down there, and your job is to get him. The insertion point is the far end of the docks, away from the fighting. It's the only way your transport can slip in undetected. Make your way towards the city, and clear out the White Fang from the AO, over."

"We hear you, Ma'am. Out."

Crimson exhaled through his teeth. When he'd prayed for action, he hadn't expected a terrorist attack in the middle of the city. Even Moss was uncharacteristically quiet, and just watched the scene through the side window as the bullhead circled around the docks. The pilot signaled to the crew compartment, two minutes until arrival.

"Looks like hunter bullshit, Boss. I don't like it," he muttered as he turned to face the rest of the team.

"If it's hunter bullshit, they're probably just kids. We need to play it safe," Crimson chided. Moss' laugh surprised him.

"For **our** sakes, we better play it safe. I don't want to be killed by blue-on-blue from some teenager."

"I agree, we should keep some distance, but we still have to do our jobs, and that means keeping those teenagers safe."

"I dunno, Boss, they seem to be doing pretty well by themselves."

Crimson opened his mouth to reply, but shut it quickly when the bullhead's doors lifted open. Gold team jumped out onto the end of the docks, and their ride tore away into the mist. They regrouped near a large metal container, emblazoned with the white SDC logo, on a uniform blue background. The sounds of the combat were clear, and close. Crimson touched the transmit button on his throat.

"We have to move quickly and figure out who exactly is in charge of the White Fang here. They're our best bet of getting to the bottom of this." With that, the team began to move across the grey cement, constantly on the lookout for danger, friend or foe. The only backdrop was the multitude of shipping containers, all different colours, which provided the team cover on their assault.

The White Fang bullheads circled overhead like sharks, but their attention was elsewhere, and Gold team managed to make its way to the central warehouse without any trouble. The sound of the combat was even louder now, and the multicoloured flashes were visible on the surrounding mist. Crimson took his usual place right behind Ao as the team stacked up at the right corner of the warehouse. The plan was to storm around and enter the building from a door on the side, hopefully bypassing the majority of the struggle at its city-facing front. Before Crimson could react, three White Fang bullheads screamed over the docks, guns blazing at an adjacent building. In a flash of blinding green, two of the three were sliced in two, and the survivor fled into the sky. Ao peered backwards, giving Crimson an uneasy look. Thankfully incidents with hunters were generally dealt with internally, but not everybody with an aura was a hunter. Officially, VPD tactics when dealing with aura-ed opponents involved heavy fire superiority, and waiting for the hunters to arrive. Unofficially, Gold team's strategy consisted of explosives and tactical retreat, hopefully in that order.

Crimson put his mask in place over his face. His rifle, now clipped to his rigging, was a little bit of extra weight over his chest, but it gave him some modicum of comfort. In his right hand he grasped his sidearm, and in his left, a gas grenade. The pin had been removed, and all that kept it from exploding was his grip pushing the handle into the body of the explosive. As soon as that side door opened, he was going to deliver it straight to the White Fang.

As soon as his hand hit Ao's shoulder, the team started to move quickly and deliberately around the corner. Crimson could hear bullets deflecting off metal, and assumed the hunters-in-training were putting up quite a fight. Finally, Gold reached the door. Ao slammed a breaching charge to the exterior lock, and the team smoothly took positions around the entrance. The charge went off, and Crimson tossed his payload through the smoking frame. Immediately, Ao moved through, SMG raised, taking his position in the doorway, illuminating the structure's interior, thick with smoke and gas, with his flashlight.

"Next man, left!" Came the shout, knocking Crimson into focus. Weapon pointed into the room, he pushed through the smoke, entering the warehouse.

As soon as he passed through, he stuck himself to the left-hand side of the entrance and slid along, back against the wall. Lit up by his flashlight was probably the most surprised pair of faunus he had ever seen in his life. The room wasn't too large, merely a small waiting area with two small doors. One, Crimson presumed, led to the actual storage zone. In such a confined space the gas was taking its toll. The first target was gasping for air, covering her mouth with clawed hands. The second bolted towards the front exit, his eyes shut. Onyx sprinted past Crimson, and took his target out with a diving tackle through the door. Crimson hurriedly moved forwards to restrain the compliant cat faunus, as Onyx dove back through the entryway he had just smashed, followed closely by a hail of gunfire. The Atlesian scrambled for cover behind the wall as rounds sprayed through the air he had just been breathing a moment earlier. Moss leaned past the doorframe, firing his rifle through into the next room. Onyx crouched and joined him, the duo suppressing the shooters in the next room. Ao locked eyes with Crimson and gestured to a second door. Crimson nodded, and Ao pushed the new portal open.

The door opened up behind several stacked boxes of fishing supplies in the main area of the warehouse, which provided excellent cover for the two officers. Crimson peered around their impromptu barricade, getting a glimpse of several White Fang soldiers huddling behind barrels of paint under the barrage of accurate fire coming from Onyx and Moss' position. Crimson raised his pistol and fired a single shot into one of the barrels. The red liquid poured out over the arms of one of the suppressed soldiers, who screamed in terror and dropped his weapon, cradling his arm. His partner stared at him in confusion, and slowly met eyes with Ao, whose weapon was trained on him.

Onyx and Moss ceased firing, and joined the rest of their team. Once the faunus were restrained, Gold team convened around the leaking barrel. The sounds of the fighting had ceased out front, and through the holes in the warehouse, Crimson could see a group of four trainee-hunters and huntresses staring around in confusion at the groaning and writhing White Fang surrounding them.

"TOC, this is entry team. The situation at the docks is under control – send in the cavalry."

"This is TOC. We hear you, stand by for extraction, over." Crimson looked over at Moss, who was stifling his laughter at the children arguing outside the building. He pressed the button at his neck.

"Hey, uh, TOC, what should we do with these huntresses?" He waited patiently for a second, and the radio came to life.

"Advise hold inside the warehouse and not to interfere," the smooth-voiced operator commanded. Crimson's frustration flared and he jammed his transmit button hard, pushing his comms collar painfully into his neck.

"Not to interfere? They're witnesses. They might be able to tell us something." More silence. His frustration was contagious, and the rest of Gold team was quietly mumbling in discontent. Suddenly, his radio spat in the Chief's voice.

"Gold do **not** approach them. VPD will not detain those trainees. This even goes above my head, I'm sorry. Wait for your extraction and debriefing. Over." Crimson looked around and saw his entire team watching him with varying degrees of concern etched on their faces.

"Well, Boss? What's happening?"

"Everything just got a lot more complicated," he sighed, as he shifted his weight off the barrel and began to walk towards the waiting room they had just ravaged. Maybe he'd find some magazines.


	4. Chapter 4

Onyx stared out the small window at the brickwork on the opposite side of the alleyway. A small bug crawled along the red stone, and was significantly more entertaining than more research. A small sound inside the room caught his attention, and he saw Moss slumped over his folders, snoring softly. Ao was studiously flipping through his papers, softly humming to himself. Since the docks incident, the entire team had been too preoccupied to really focus on the White Fang info-dump, and instead preferred to observe the interrogations they had worked so hard to make possible. It had been Crimson's turn to take a reading break, and he had practically skipped his way out of the room, desperate for new scenery.

So far, unsurprisingly, they had learned next to nothing. The White Fang were zealous, and weren't likely to spill their purpose in Vale directly, but it was really just a numbers game – and the numbers seemed to be on the side of the VPD. All they needed was one mildly dissatisfied grunt, one person to accept whatever plea bargain the prosecutors were cooking up, and this whole debacle would be blown wide open.

A low growling began to be just barely audible in the distance, slowly building in volume until a great roar was shaking the building, waking Moss with a start. The door swung open, and Crimson gestured for Gold to join him out in the hallway, where the beginnings of a crowd had begun to form. Onyx stepped out of the room to join the crush, and found himself wedged between Moss, an overweight balding man wearing suspenders, and a trash bin. Crimson gestured towards the window by the corner of the hall, which managed to catch a corner of the sea in its purview. The sight was astonishing—an Atlas battleship slowly flying in from the North.

"Looks like we have guests!" Crimson yelled, just audible above the noise of the crowd. Onyx could only nod in reply, perplexed by the presence of his countrymen's army in an allied territory. All of a sudden, a loud, commanding voice rose above the background. The Chief had arrived.

"Everybody settle down! All street units report to your vehicles and patrol your usual routes. We need to ensure that the people have confidence in our ability to keep the peace. As for everybody else, return to your desks! This is nothing to be alarmed about."

Slowly but surely, the crowd began to disperse as people filtered back into their offices. The exodus slowed, however, when the sound of marching boots filtered down the stairs to the roof landing pad. One woman shrieked when an armoured Atlesian trooper rounded the corner, followed by a two-by-two column. The soldiers, wearing white parade armour with red trim took up sentry positions along the hallway, and the remaining office workers beat a hasty retreat to their rooms. Gold team remained in limbo, halfway through their door while each member tried his best to watch, but also tried to avoid drawing the Chief's ire. At the very rear of the little parade, an Atlesian sergeant—easily distinguished by his blue-trimmed armour, walked up to the now-fuming chief of the Vale Police Department.

Onyx swore he could see her aura glowing faintly, and her face betrayed her immense anger. And if Onyx saw it, the sergeant definitely could.

"Excuse me, ma'am," he managed to say, unable to make eye contact, despite his helmet. "Are you Chief June Merryweather?" Her glare could pierce armour now, but she controlled her voice quite well.

"Yes, that is me. What can I do for you today?"

"Well, Chief Merryweather, I was hoping that—"

"You were **hoping**?" She snarled. To his amusement, Onyx saw one of the sentries down the line flinch at her ferocity. He felt Moss' elbow at his side.

"Got any popcorn? This is gonna be good." Onyx grinned, turning back to the Chief.

"You were hoping for nothing. You fly your little warship into an allied kingdom, march your **little** soldiers into **my** police department, and you **hope** I can do something for you?" The smaller woman now seemed to tower over the sergeant, who was doing his best to remain absolutely still, perhaps under the impression that her sight was based on movement, and she'd move on to other prey shortly. "Take that damned bucket off your head, grow some balls, and then tell me what you want."

The man stammered for a second, before his hands quickly rose to his helmet, lifting it off his head. The sergeant looked far too young to be dealing with someone of the Chief's calibre, with sparse blonde facial hair on his chin and cheeks, and boyish golden curls on his head. Cowed, he held his helmet in both hands by his stomach, between himself and the chief, as if he hoped it might protect him from her anger. Tentatively, he raised his voice.

"Could we meet in your office-" her glare caught him short. "Please?"

She stared him in the eyes for a second, seeming to measure him up, and to his credit he held her gaze. She then turned to Gold team, who were nearly falling out of the doorway.

"Crimson, bring your team in too. I have the nasty feeling you'll all be involved later, anyways." And with that, she turned on her heel and marched back to her office, the officer trailing behind her like a lost puppy. Onyx turned to Moss and Ao behind him, and both shrugged. Then Crimson spoke up.

"You heard what the lady wants," he said, looking warily at the sentries posted up and down the hallway. "Let's go watch her chew up an officer."

* * *

When Gold team entered, the officer looked almost relieved. He fumbled with his helmet while everybody found a place to sit, and spoke up just as Moss rested his weight on a globe of Remnant sitting in the corner.

"As I just mentioned to Chief Merryweather, I was requesting that our teams to have full access to all files your department has compiled on the White Fang, and that all your prisoners be transferred into Atlas military custody." Moss glanced to the Chief, who was resting backwards in her chair, fingers steepled beneath her nose. He then followed her gaze up to Crimson, who had opened his mouth the speak.

"That would put them in military prison, wouldn't it?" He said, hesitantly. The Chief came to his rescue before the Atlesian sergeant could respond.

"Yes, it would. And I'm not comfortable with that. We need them for an ongoing investigation, so they can't be rotting away on one of your airships until being sent to Camp X-Ray up in your northern frontier to disappear indefinitely. Here at least they're held under charges, and are accessible."

"Ironwood told me to tell you that VPD would be privy to any and all information we gain from them though, since we're in charge of security for the Vytal Festival." Now the Chief leaned forwards, placing her hands flat on the desk. Her eyes were locked on the NCO, who shifted uncomfortable under her gaze.

"What Ironwood wants doesn't matter. This is my house. What I'm prepared to offer is the next best thing," she then turned to Gold team, and gestured to them. "These men here made the initial discovery. They were also involved in the most recent capture, and have the most up-to-date intel on the situation here. I can loan them to your command, but I want to keep the prisoners under civilian arrest."

The Soldier mulled this over for a few seconds, his gaze hovering over the ceremonial sword sitting underneath the portraits, as if he believed the Chief might use it on him should he refuse her counteroffer. He exhaled loudly, and faced the Chief.

"Fine, we have a preliminary deal. If these men can come with me, we'll arrange quarters, and I'll confer with my superiors." Moss was still in shock over the "negotiation", but he had faith that the Chief wouldn't sell them out that easily.

"They'll meet you at the landing pad. This meeting is over." With that, the Sergeant nearly fled the room. As soon as the door clicked shut, and the sound of the soldiers' boots had finally echoed out of the hallway, she addressed the confused team.

"I know you might be a bit upset about this, but keeping these White Fang in our hands is important enough that you all should be fine with it."

"Well we'll only be touring the boat before being sent back, right?" Queried Moss. "If the brass doesn't like the deal, they'll be back, asking for the prisoners tomorrow." The Chief smiled in response. Moss found this unsettling and didn't know why.

"I know Ironwood, and he was just shooting for the most he could possibly get. I'll be talking to him in private, and we'll sort out the intelligence-sharing there. Sending that kid to me was just insulting. Your team will be our sacrificial limb—just expect to be asked a lot of questions, and uncomfortable navy quarters for the festival."

The team idled uncomfortably, unsure of how to respond. Finally, the Chief clapped her hands together, and stood up out of her chair.

"You're expected at the landing pad. Clothes should be provided to you there, so you should head to the Sergeant directly."

Moss left the office in a state of fugue, and found himself wandering up the stairs to the room a couple steps behind Crimson. Behind him, he could hear Onyx explaining the fleet to Ao.

"This one is called the _Ironwood Special_ , though we sometimes called it _Ironwood's Short Bus_ , since it's smaller than the other two fleets. If we're being stationed with the other tactical teams, then we can expect to be on Ironwood's personal ship, where his hunter specialists stay. Those rooms are actually decent, but if we're put somewhere else, expect a small bunk."

Moss didn't exactly like his chances of scoring a room beside some cute Huntresses, but as the team walked across the roof towards the military bullhead, he accepted that he didn't have a choice, so he might as well wish for the best.

The bullhead was spacious, but Spartan, as the sergeant had obviously expected to be returning with a generous compliment of prisoners instead of the four suspicious VPD officers they were 'gifted' with instead. As he sat down on the hard seat, and strapped himself in, Moss busied himself fantasizing about how he'd charm the cute yet shy Atlesian huntress in the neighbouring room with his sense of humour, but was jolted back into reality by the quick liftoff. Out the window, he saw the station shrink into the city, and the city shrink into the distance. He glanced at the seats across from him, where an Atlesian soldier did his best to look intimidating, while he also seemed to be trying to stave off illness.

So this was what they were dealing with. Great.


End file.
